


A Durable Gift

by HarperMoonandNickGrunge



Category: Captain America (Movies), DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarperMoonandNickGrunge/pseuds/HarperMoonandNickGrunge
Summary: Even America's birthday demands a celebration in Gotham.





	A Durable Gift

“Ladies? Won’t you join me in the lounge?” Joker’s voice crackled over the inter-com.  
Their warehouse hideout had been newly renovated since the last heist. They even had temperature control and adjustable mattresses. Luxury sat so well with her.  
Harley Quinn whined, hanging over the back of her spinning desk chair.  
“What does he want now, Pamy Whamy?”  
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Poison Ivy, applying a dusting of ruby to her eyelids. Flowers and lights framed her mirror. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s quick.” She powdered her cheeks, closed her pallet, and stood up.  
Ivy took the dark, bare corridor. Cool concrete surrounded them. Harley skipped behind her.  
“We should get some pitcha’s, don’tcha think?”  
“It’ll distract from my wall climbers.” Ivy’s vines had taken possession of the first floor within days.  
“Aw. But I wanna put up some pitcha’s!”  
Ivy could hear the pout in Harley’s voice. Ivy rolled her eyes.  
“You’ll hang them crooked, Harley. I’ll only have to keep fixing them.”  
“Well, yeah! Exactly! It’ll be our little game.”  
Ivy frowned, detecting something different in the air. Distinct and sharp like ivory soap. She glared at the room ahead and the fingers of light creeping out from under the door to the lounge. Those fingers beckoned.  
“There’s someone here.”  
“Oh? You think Puddin’ brought a guest?” Harley clapped. “Are we havin' a party?”  
Solemnly, Ivy moved forward. One of her vines snaked away from the wall, coiled around the doorknob, and opened the door. She scanned the lounge and the empty arm chairs. When she did not find anyone near the billiard table or bar, she stepped into the room and turned the corner.  
Ivy froze.  
Joker sat in the center of their curved black sofa, his arms splayed over the backs of the cushions. But that wasn’t what jarred her.  
The surprise lay on his back over Joker’s lap. The naked man, impeccably put together—despite the little bruises and bangups here and there—had his arms bound behind his back with a harness over his chest. The straps were tight enough to enhance his sculpted chest to bulging. At first, she assumed it had to be Bruce Wayne. But this man looked younger. And he was blond.  
His legs were bent, open, and bound to the bar behind his knees. Ivy noted the duct tape slapped cruelly over his mouth. Joker had drawn a crude smile on it. But from the flush in the man's chest, sweat on his brow, and the tension in his face, she knew it did not accurately reflect the form his lips took underneath the tape. Breathing unreliably through the nose and blinking hard again and again, the man refused to look at her. He stared at the ceiling when his eyes were open.  
Leather gloves and a blue uniform, torn to shreds from the look of it, lay in a mangled heap on the coffee table. A shield with a silver star in the center sat on the floor between the Joker’s scuffed beige loafers.  
“Evening, dearies. And a happy Fourth of July.”  
“Oh, Puddin’, you got us a pet!” Harley rushed forward. “He’s so cute… and muscly!” She pinched his cheeks and smushed them affectionately. “Lookit those peepers. Such a pretty blue. I wanna name him!”  
“He has a name,” Ivy stated, allowing a smirk to bud over her lips. “Doesn’t he, J?” She shouldered the wall.  
“Aww,” Harley whined and stuck her bottom lip out.  
“Ding ding ding. Well spotted, my flower. His name is Steve Rogers, known in his dimension as Captain America.”  
Ivy scoffed at the irony. Delectable.  
Steve grunted. He shifted: his struggles sluggish, but genuine. Joker pressed his hand against Steve's chest to keep him down. Ivy suspected that under normal circumstances, that would not have been nearly enough to subdue him.  
“What did you give him?” Ivy purred, squinting.  
“Something special, but nothing kind. He’s a little scrambled by the dimension warp. Don’t worry. Durable thing, this one. A leader of heroes in his realm. And a pious one, if the rumors have any merit. He’ll be exactly what you lovely devils need.”  
Ivy righted herself. She crossed the room with a deliberate sway in her hips.  
Harley shuffled aside.  
“Look at ‘im, Pamy! Ain’t he just a doll?”  
Not a doll, Ivy knew. But he was a toy. Ivy seized Steve’s prominent chin. She searched his skin, scent, and eyes for undesirable signs only to find male perfection. She admired his meaty frame, twice her size.  
Enormous. And pale.  
Delighted, Ivy noticed the blue ribbon tied snugly around the base of Steve’s swollen cock.  
Ivy brought her eyes back to Steve’s face to find him staring at her pleadingly. Practically begging. Those eyes needed her to set him free. And she could do it. With a single word, she could do it.  
Instead, she said, “I’ll cancel my plans. And find my strap-on.”  
Horror replaced any hope in Steve’s eyes.  
“Time for the fireworks!” Giggling, Harley shucked off her clothing. “Thanks, Mista’ J!”  
Ivy sashayed for the door and heard Steve groan as he resumed struggling.  
As Poison Ivy turned the corner, Joker laughed raucously. Maybe tonight wouldn't be a wash after all. Oh, she had grand plans for Rogers indeed. Joker could discard any leftovers in the morning.


End file.
